Erica Olafson Voyages of the Tigershark Vol 8 Chapter 8 Done For
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Clinton free porn video
Clinton
By Cal Y. Pygia
"How many inches?" she asked.
"Twelve," he said.
"Really?"
"Really."
"If you're lying, you're just wasting your time." And mine, she thought.
"I'm not."
"Okay, then. It's a date."
Tiffany hoped the jerk was telling the truth. In her experience, men
often lied about the size of their dicks, and she liked her cocks big--
and Black.
Supposedly, Clinton, her latest client, was both. She'd see soon enough,
she thought.
Tiffany wasn't a call girl. At least, she didn't think of herself that
way. She was a white woman who served Black men's fantasies. All of
them, it seemed, wanted nothing as much as to fuck a white girl, usually
in her ass, or to choke her half to death on their huge ebony cocks
before pumping a half gallon of their thick seed down their lily white
throats.
That was okay with Tiffany. She loved cocks, especially Black pricks--
the bigger and Blacker, the better, as far as she was concerned. To
qualify for her services, a guy had to have at least twelve inches and,
preferably, more--a whole lot more.
They had to have money, too, because, for her services, whether anal or
oral intercourse, or both, she charged a flat fee of a hundred dollars.
Breast implants, plastic surgery to shave her Adam's apple and modify her
facial structure, electrolysis, collagen lip implants, and cosmetics
weren't cheap. It was damned expensive to be--or to become--a beautiful
woman, especially when, like Tiffany, one had been born a man. By making
men like Clinton pay, and pay handsomely, for her services, she was able
to pay for her surgeries and hormone therapy, even with the condition
that a man had to be both Black and big to qualify for a "date" with her.
* * *
Tiffany answered her doorbell in the nude. She wasn't one to stand on
ceremonies, and she wasn't interested in small talk, not when she'd
scheduled three more dates back to back, the next due to arrive in an
hour.
Clinton, apparently, didn't believe in wasting time; he was naked as soon
as she'd closed the front door to her penthouse suite. He was quite a
specimen of manhood, Tiffany observed, with handsome facial features, a
thick neck, broad shoulders, a barrel chest, tight six-pack abs, sinewy
thighs, bulging claves, a sculpted back, and compact buttocks. He had
big balls, and his monster cock would easily measure a foot in length,
were Tiffany to apply the tape measure she carried in her purse.
He passed the color test, too. Clinton was Blacker than "Black." He was
coal Black, pitch Black, starless midnight Black.
His eyes swept from her boyish penis and small balls to the round, firm
pair of breasts she'd had implanted just last year. His prick was half-
erect already at the thought of what he intended to do to her. Grasping
his mammoth member in his hand, Clinton smirked. "I'm goan shove dis
muvvafuckah up yo' lily-why ass, an den I'm goan shove it down yo'
throat," he said, adopting a dialect that, Tiffany suspected, was as
inauthentic as it was meant to sound--what?--thuggish? "You think you
kin take all my man meat, bitch?"
Tiffany suppressed a giggle. She also managed not to say any of the half
dozen rejoinders that leaped to mind. Men--especially Black men, it
seemed to her--didn't take kindly to jokes about their manhood. "I'll
sure give it a try" is all she said.
"Well, den, bitch, try! I wants to see elbows and knees."
Tiffany started toward the bed, knowing his eyes must be on her sleek,
firm, round ass.
"Not the bed, the flo'."
The floor, although carpeted, would be hard on the knees, she thought,
but she'd been paid a week in advance, and his request was reasonable
under the circumstances. She assumed the position, her knees spread, her
ass high in the air, and the weight of her upper body resting upon her
elbows, forearms, and palms.
She felt him sidle up to her. Having knelt behind her, he "walked"
closer, taking his place between her creamy thighs. For a moment,
holding his massive member in his fist, he studied its blackness against
the pale pink flesh of her flawless buttocks. As always, the contrast
between ebony and ivory excited him tremendously. Although he knew that
the notion was irrational, it seemed to him that, every time he ravished
a white woman, he was avenging her forebears' brutal treatment of his
ancestors, whom they'd enslaved, beaten, lynched, and bought and sold
like property. At the same time, it seemed to him that he was
humiliating their men, because he was using their white women as if they
were nothing but sluts and whores, which, to his way of thinking, they
pretty much were. For the same reason, he never fucked a white woman in
her cunt. He reserved that honor for Black ladies. He insisted upon
butt-fucking and throat-fucking white bitches, because such acts were
expressions of contempt, as he saw it, not love. When he fucked a white
transsexual, he was expressing his hatred for both white men and white
women, all at the same time, because a shemale was both a man and a
woman, he thought, without being either, completely.
Now, he grinned, as guiding his monstrous hunk of man-meat between the
silken globes of Tiffany's sweet cheeks, he imagined how brutally he
would fuck this honky bitch. He'd rip her a new one before he was done,
and leave her whimpering in his cum.
Her asshole stopped the advance of his member. Tiffany wasn't a virgin,
no way. In fact, as a call girl, she'd been fucked hundreds, maybe
thousands, of times, always in her ass, of course, since she was a t-girl
instead of a woman born and bred. Nevertheless, somehow, her anus seemed
to have remained as tight as any virgin's would be. Of course, the sheer
size of his own equipment would also make the white bitch's butt hole
seem tighter. Still, she was snugger than he'd have expected, and the
stout resistance of her anal sphincter had surprised him. It was no real
obstacle, though, and, with slow, steady pressure, holding his cock on
target, he was able to penetrate the transsexual's ass, shoving his
thick, hard prick all the way through her tight anal embrace, so that her
sleek ass cheeks flattened before him and his big balls collided against
her smooth upper thighs.
Having skewered her, he paused, delighting in the feel of her penetrated
anus fluttering frantically about his invading organ. It would do her no
good, this last-ditch effort at defiance, but he would enjoy the
sensations of the quivering, squeezing sphincter until, at last, the
trembling stopped.
It did, too, of course, in relatively short order, as, relaxing, her anus
opened, accepting the inevitability of his presence within her bottom,
and he drew his hips well back, watching his magnificent Black cock slide
back through the impaled opening into her bowels, inch after inch of its
huge thickness coming into view between her satiny white buttocks.
Again, the stark contrast of his ebony cock against her snowy bottom
caused a sense of godlike power to swell within him, and his monstrous
member bulged even more.
Watching the coal-Black shaft slither back through the circle of her
gaping anus, entering her depths again, filling her white-pink bottom,
made Clinton groan. He pressed harder, driving his cock another fraction
of an inch, to fill her white ass as completely as possible with his dark
meat, and her soft moan brought a diabolical smirk to his handsome face.
The bitch had no idea what was in store for her, he told himself, no idea
at all.
Of course, as a call girl who insisted on twelve inches, minimum, before
she'd agree to a "date," Tiffany knew all too well exactly what she could
expect from taking a gargantuan prick up her ass; she'd been fucked in
the ass innumerable times, with cocks even larger than Clinton's dick,
immensely enjoying each time she'd been brutally ravished by such a
gigantic member. There was more than a little of the masochist in her,
and she delighted in being humiliated and dominated as much as men like
Clinton.
Big and Black and powerful as panthers, such men were, nevertheless,
despite the Civil Rights Act, generations of federal assistance, and the
preferential treatment that decades of racial quotas, reverse
discrimination, affirmative action, or whatever one chose to call bias in
favor of "people of color" had provided them, made to suffer from
discrimination and racism. A lot of that suffering was psychological,
taking a toll on their sense of self-worth and autonomy, and creating in
them rage and a need to take revenge, symbolically, through sex, or
actually, through violence and crime. Tiffany kept these ideas to
herself. In an age of runaway political correctness, nobody seemed
interested in the truth, she'd discovered.
Black men, whom both penis size and excellence across the board in
athletic competition clearly demonstrated, were the physical superiors of
white men were, nevertheless, for the most part, dominated and controlled
by them. Such a reality, Tiffany thought, had to be humiliating, as did
their history of forced servitude. If she could help Clinton and other
Black men gain a little the self-respect they'd lost by screwing her,
literally, in the ass and "making" her swallow their cum afterward, she
was more than happy to do so--for her hundred-dollar fee, of course.
Moreover, the na?ve and the disingenuous alike declared that all was well
among races and ethnicities now that Americans had elected their first
Black president.
Clinton loved the way his big Black cock stretched the white shemale
bitch's asshole to huge dimensions. The facts that his ebony member had
done so and that he was giving it to a white man-bitch up the ass was
extremely exciting. His prick was longer, thicker, and harder than it
had been in years. In fucking white women, he'd gotten used to
dominating the inferior race, but, now, in pounding a bitch that was
"half and half" (half male and half female, as he thought of transwomen),
the novelty had renewed the sense of empowerment that fucking a honky
slut had originally given him, and he felt every inch the man as he
rammed, jammed, crammed, and slammed his monster cock into Tiffany's
gaping anus and deep into her bowels, where she was, at last, as dark as
he, her much-vaunted ivory complexion notwithstanding.
Those who pretended that there was no racial--or, indeed, racist--
dimension to interracial sex acts in which a big Black buck slammed it to
a white bitch, genetic or otherwise, were either na?ve as hell, ignorant
as hell, or stupid as hell, Clinton thought, or, more likely, they were
just damned liars. There was racism involved in a big Black man using
his big Black cock to deflower virgin white-girl pussy or to humiliate
and dominate her by stuffing her pretty pink face with his manly meat or
packing her pearly posterior with his African-American prick. Clinton
preferred redheads or blondes to brunettes, because red and blonde were
hair colors exclusive to the Caucasian persuasion.
Even if the color came out of a bottle, it was, nevertheless, true that
at least some white women had natural red or blonde hair, and, therefore,
in Clinton's view, even the brunettes among them who preferred red or
blonde locks were entitled, by proxy, to wear these colors. A Black
woman with blonde or red hair looked ludicrous, he thought, and, besides,
in his view, they were nothing but traitors to their race, lampooning the
tightly curled Black hair with which God and nature had decided to bless
them.
Best of all was a shaved cunt, he thought, but, if a woman or a tranny
felt she had to have some fur down there, for decoration, he preferred it
to be blonde or red, too, to match the bitch's coiffure. There was
nothing better than driving his prick through a pink pussy housed inside
a pubic mound over which grew a neatly clipped strip of red or blonde
pubic hair, unless it was fucking an altogether bald beaver.
After he'd delivered fifty or sixty strokes of his massive member into
the depths of Tiffany's ass, lunging and plunging harder and faster upon
each thrust, Clinton, his cock still buried between the shemale's ass
cheeks, rose from his knees, crouching above the kneeling tranny, whose
upper body was stretched forth, over the carpeted floor, its weight
resting upon her elbows, her tits not dangling, like a cow's udders from
her chest, as natural breasts did, but retaining their tight, firm, round
appearance, even in the position that Tiffany, at his command, had
adopted, and, in this newly adopted attitude, he delivered even longer,
deeper, more forceful thrusts into her derriere, as if his cock were a
sword with which he was repeatedly stabbing his victim, as fast and as
furiously as he could do so.
Under him, Tiffany, wracked by his plunging strokes into her ravaged
behind, moaned and gasped and grunted, biting her lower lip and closing
her eyes. The immense member seemed about to split her in two at any
moment, and her own cock, rigid and thick, but only half the length as
the one that tormented her bottom, waved and wiggled, jumped and jiggled,
as she was pounded relentlessly and passionately from above and behind,
the great Black cock filling and vacating her bowels with urgent speed
and careless, sadistic force.
Each slam of his prick through her anus and into her bowels drove her
forward upon her elbows and knees, her body settling back again, into its
original position for a moment, as he withdrew, only to be pounded again-
-and again and again--as he renewed his assault, her buttocks flattening
before his powerful, penetrating lunges and bouncing back to fullness
with his every momentary retreat.
Again, she felt his massive member slide through her anus, past its
relaxed, wide-open sphincter, and deep into her rectum. This time, his
groin pressed so firmly into the cushions of her buttocks that she could
feel the raspy coils of his pubic hair against her sleek bottom. He held
his ground, grinding himself against her, so that every inch of his
enormous cock was buried inside her bowels to the uttermost fraction of
the last inch.
After occupying her for a minute or more, Clinton slowly allowed his
erection to slide back through Tiffany's impaled anus, an inch at a time,
until, at last, the complete member, in all its magnificence, was visible
and he could look down, not merely at, but several inches into, the pink-
walled interior of the shemale's gaping anus.
Her hugely dilated asshole was proof to Clinton of his superiority to the
honky shemale bitch. Wide enough for him to insert his whole damned fist
into, if he'd wanted to do so, her anus demonstrated his better, finer
nature and his dominant disposition. Anyone who'd willingly take a cock
up the ass the way this bitch had done showed him- or herself to be
beyond contempt, Clinton thought.
He wasn't the only one to think so, either. Mexican men--the macho among
them, at least--saw no shame in fucking another man; the shame was in
being fucked by another of one's own sex; such a man was less than a man;
he was a woman, despite his male genitals. The ancient Greeks had held
the same view of the matter. A sodomite was all well and good, but a
catamite was contemptuous and vile. Prisoners agreed, accounting the
active, penetrative man as a man, but the passive, penetrated dude as a
punk, pure and simple, who was to be accorded no respect or consideration
except as a piece of ass to be fucked, shared, and pimped.
A shemale, like Tiffany, was in the same category. Despite her cock and
balls, she was just a bitch; in fact, since she took money in exchange
for sex, she was no better than a common prostitute, or whore. Calling
herself a "call girl" didn't change her status in the least.
"Git on yo' knees, bitch," he ordered the white whore. "I'm goan make
you eat yo' own shit while I fuck yo' white trash face."
Again, Tiffany, obeying her john's orders, repressed a smile at the
obviously affected ghetto dialect. Judging by the handsome suit Clinton
had been wearing when he'd arrived--Armani, unless she missed her guess--
and the Rolex watch he still wore on his right wrist, Clinton was
anything but a street thug. If he'd been born in the projects and raised
in the 'hood, which, she believed, was unlikely, he'd come a long way
since those days--outwardly, at least.
"You bedder be able to deep throat a cock, bitch, cuz, if you kaint, you
goan choke to death on dis monster muvvafuckah."
He'd stood as she'd turned, still on her knees, to face him, and, now, he
stepped close to her, his rigid cock touching her lips. "Goan, bitch,
and suck my man-thing."
"Man-thing"? Again, Tiffany suppressed the urge to giggle. Instead, she
obediently opened her mouth and plunged her open jaws over and down the
enormous erection, as far as she could. Relaxing her gag reflex, she
opened her throat, and was able, with some difficulty, to take every inch
of his foot-long penis down her throat. His big balls, smelling faintly
musky, but by no means unpleasant, pressed against her chin, and her
forehead rested against his lower belly, her face, like her throat
entirely stuffed with his cock.
The sight of her blonde tresses, her blue eyes, her pink-white flesh, her
rosy cheeks, and her cherry lips around the base of his monstrous Black
prick enflamed the race-based passion within him, and Clinton,
withdrawing all but three or four inches of his massive manhood, shoved
another couple of inches into the shemale bitch's face, grinning as her
baby blues bulged in her face and she looked terrified at the thought
that, despite her skills as a deep throat artist, she might be choked to
death. She gagged, drool issuing from between her round, stretched lips.
His cock glistened with the fluid, exciting him further.
"How dat Black cock taste, honky shemale whore?" he demanded.
She murmured, as best she could, around the prick stuffing her face.
He slid his cock free of her lips, and she inhaled deeply, desperately.
Clinton laughed at her distress. "A man's cock too much for you white
bitches," he declared, laughing again. "Well, come on, whore, suck my
cock; I ain't paid you to practice no damned breathing exercises. This
ain't no yoga class."
Tiffany was skilled in the art of cock sucking. Even Clinton,
grudgingly, and to himself alone, had to admit. She was better than most
of her kind--or any other kind--of woman, better, even, than most of the
Black women he'd dated. But he had a huge monster of a cock, and she
struggled to get the girth of the fucker into her mouth and, once having
done so, to keep it there.
Still, he was so excited at humiliating a white half and half that
Clinton was unable to endure the call girl's attentions for long, and,
within a few minutes of her expert oral service, he felt the irresistible
surge of orgasm flash through him like a flood or a wildfire, and, his
massive manhood quivering and lurching, straining and convulsing, inside
the warm-soft-wetness of Tiffany's mouth, he was delirious with bliss as
load after thick, warm, salty stream of semen launched itself from his
balls, erupting over the whore's teeth, tongue, and palate.
Involuntarily, Tiffany swallowed frantically, as the spills of sperm
continued to come in volley after volley.
Clinton recovered his wits long enough to yank his cock from her mouth
and spray her face with the last blasts of his thick, warm, white semen,
and he took delight in the sight of his viscid seed coating the pink
flesh of the shemale's Caucasian countenance. Like a brand, the semen
marked the white bitch as one who had been possessed by a powerful,
virile Black man, demonstrating, once again, to Clinton's mind, his
dominance, his superiority, and his mastery.
"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, my dear," he said, without
a trace of the ghetto accent he'd affected earlier.
He left her kneeling in his sperm and, without another word, he dressed
in his thirteen-hundred-dollar Armani suit, put on his fifteen-hundred-
dollar Testoni Norvegese shoes, opened the door to her penthouse suite,
sallied into the hallway, and rode the elevator down to the street,
where, a half block away, his limousine awaited him, ready to whisk him
away to the airport where he'd catch his flight to the west coast to
confer, tomorrow, with the white owner of a multi-billion-dollar computer
software corporation from which he'd try to beg a million-dollar crumb
for his own business, Black Enterprises. The memory of his cock up the
honky shemale bitch's ass and down her throat and of his Black man's
semen all over her pink face would sustain him during the ordeal in
which, despite his expensive, tailored clothes and his own not
inconsiderable bank account, he'd feel diminished and inadequate, if not
altogether impotent.
As his limousine pulled away from the curb, he speed-dialed Tiffany's
number. When she answered, sounding, he thought, a bit the worse for
wear, he scheduled another "date" with her, on the day following his
return to New York.
After another session with the worthless whore, fucking her in the ass
and making the honky shemale eat her own shit, he'd feel like a new man.
He'd feel like a million dollars. He'd feel reborn, his Black skin an
asset rather than a liability, which made him superior and dominant and a
power to be reckoned with in this white man's world.
The honky bastards that ruled the world could try to strip away his
dignity. They could try to steal his identity. They could humiliate and
abuse him. But there was one thing that no white man could ever do, and
that was to take away the mighty Black penis with which God and nature
had blessed him and most other Black men. Every time he shoved his
mighty man meat up some white chick's pussy or ass or down her throat or
did the same to a white shemale bitch like Tiffany, he asserted his true
superiority and dominance as much as any Black athlete did on a football
field or a basketball court.
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